Chapter 3:
If There is Hope, It Lies in the Proles
It would not have been remarkable had the Thought Police thought it worth investigation. It was an old warehouse, now abandoned and owned by Jonathan Ryan, who was old by prole standards, pushing sixty and looking worse for wear. He had inherited the building from his family, who had once been owners of a manufacturing company before the Revolution. The Ryans, once famous for being successful Catholic businessowners, were now close allies to the inner circle of the Children of the Revolution. Jonathan had offered his services when approached by Andrew, and had happily donated his warehouse to the cause.
It was perfect for Renee's plan. Located on the outskirts of Dublin, it was close enough to be accessable on foot, but far enough not to attract too much unwanted attention. It was large enough to hold as many people as needed, and was clean enough not to require too much renovation. The winter had been spent on modifying its interior with black market supplies. A stage had been built at one end, complete with a sound system put together from stolen microphone and telescreen parts. Soundproofing had been installed to prevent anyone overhearing what occurred inside.
The rest of the winter had consisted of setting up a network of members. Cells were formed, and Andrew was the only member of the commanding council that contacted them. For the most part, they handled the acquisition of black market goods and recruitment of new members. It was not uncommon for the four commanders to work side-by-side with the cells, so code names were invented, much to Constance's vocal distaste. Renee privately sympathized with her roommate, as Andrew had jokingly given Constance the code name Artemis.
March came in like a lion, blasting furious winds through the streets. The opening was set the next week, causing Renee to feel as if she were stretched to the breaking point. Constance and Andrew were famous in the house for working off their stress very loudly in Andrew's flat, but Renee and Thomas continued as if it were the end of the world. Which it was, Renee thought. The end of the world they knew.
"O brave new world that has such people in it," she quoted, sighing. Such people like the prostitutes who were willing to risk everything for her crazy idea. Such people like Jonathan Ryan who stood to face death should the warehouse be discovered. Such people like those who had joined the Children of the Revolution because of a dream.
Then there was the nagging worry that no one would even show for the opening. Andrew had extracted promises from everyone to whom he had spoken, and all of Constance's prostitute friends had agreed, but Renee knew all too well the cowardice, or perhaps common sense, that governed prole life. If they thought the risk was not worth the action, they would not come.
The week flew by, although Renee would have given anything to stop it. Days blended into nights, meetings blurred and work seemed to disappear before her. All at once, the opening was upon her. She left work, knowing that it would start before she arrived. It was part of the plan, in order to protect her. If she arrived halfway through, no one would think she had orchestrated the whole scheme.
She arrived home and changed out of her work clothes. She walked to the Tube station and rode until she was two stops away from the warehouse. She walked the rest of the way. On her way, she met a prostitute leading a Party member in the same direction. They walked to the warehouse together, the Party man in tow and completely confused. Renee smiled at the prostitute as they parted ways inside the warehouse.
The warehouse was filled with music. The sound system they had so painstakingly created blasted the sound to every corner of the building. Renee knew from her entrance that the soundproofing held. Her heart made an ecstatic leap as she saw the inside of the building.
People. More people than she had ever imagined would be there. Party members who had obviously been dragged there by Constance's colleagues. Proles who had been told via word of mouth. Some were certainly members of the COR, as they liked to call themselves. Worried glances darted to and fro, but there were smiles. The prostitutes had pulled their customers onto the dance floor with a kind of adventurous excitement. Proles danced with Party members who had extracted themselves from their enthusiastic partners. Proles swung in one another's arms. Renee caught a glimpse of Constance and Andrew in the middle of the floor.
Thomas appeared by her side, smiling.
"I think we can count this as a success," he said wryly.
"How? What did we do to manage this?" Renee gasped.
"We worked our asses off since November. I think we deserve a little happiness now. But don't stop now. This next song's for you." Renee opened her mouth to ask, but Thomas cut her off. "Andrew made sure they didn't play it until you came in."
Sure enough, Andrew was next to the stage, talking to one of the young men holding the black market instruments.
"They're very good," Renee managed. Thomas just smiled as the song began. It was faster than the previous one, and much more intense.
"Well, you can bump and grind
If it's good for your mind.
You can twist and shout,
Let it all hang out,
But you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, no.
Well, you can tell I play
In a foreign way
I drive a Rolls Royce
'Cause it's good for my voice
But you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, no."
Renee was speechless as the song ended. Thomas cocked his head.
"I asked him what a Rolls Royce is, and he said it was some kind of automobile his grandfather talked about. He said he used it because it rhymed."
"You knew about this?"
"Course I did. Andrew, Stance and I were plotting it ever since you said you wanted to open a dance club. You said you wanted some real talent for music, and we found you the best Dublin can offer. Between you and me, I think the singer's sweet on you."
"He doesn't even know who I am!"
"He knows enough to know that Pheonix is a very attractive woman." Renee rolled her eyes at that.
"Who would have imagined that so many people would come for this?"
"Eh, you have to have faith in people, Renee. Most people are willing to take a chance."
"That they thought this was worth the chance is -"
"Amazing?"
"Wonderful." Thomas smiled as she said it and swept her into a hug.
"Let's dance."
Author's Notes:
Ok, quiz for those who care: why is Pheonix an appropriate code name for Renee, and why is Artemis a joke for Constance? Answers come with the next chapter! Renee's quotation is from Act V of The Tempest. And yes, those are the real lyrics to Children of the Revolution. The chapter title is from Nineteen Eighty-Four.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
The Tempest is by William Shakespeare.
Thanks to all those who reviewed! Follow their example! :)
If There is Hope, It Lies in the Proles
It would not have been remarkable had the Thought Police thought it worth investigation. It was an old warehouse, now abandoned and owned by Jonathan Ryan, who was old by prole standards, pushing sixty and looking worse for wear. He had inherited the building from his family, who had once been owners of a manufacturing company before the Revolution. The Ryans, once famous for being successful Catholic businessowners, were now close allies to the inner circle of the Children of the Revolution. Jonathan had offered his services when approached by Andrew, and had happily donated his warehouse to the cause.
It was perfect for Renee's plan. Located on the outskirts of Dublin, it was close enough to be accessable on foot, but far enough not to attract too much unwanted attention. It was large enough to hold as many people as needed, and was clean enough not to require too much renovation. The winter had been spent on modifying its interior with black market supplies. A stage had been built at one end, complete with a sound system put together from stolen microphone and telescreen parts. Soundproofing had been installed to prevent anyone overhearing what occurred inside.
The rest of the winter had consisted of setting up a network of members. Cells were formed, and Andrew was the only member of the commanding council that contacted them. For the most part, they handled the acquisition of black market goods and recruitment of new members. It was not uncommon for the four commanders to work side-by-side with the cells, so code names were invented, much to Constance's vocal distaste. Renee privately sympathized with her roommate, as Andrew had jokingly given Constance the code name Artemis.
March came in like a lion, blasting furious winds through the streets. The opening was set the next week, causing Renee to feel as if she were stretched to the breaking point. Constance and Andrew were famous in the house for working off their stress very loudly in Andrew's flat, but Renee and Thomas continued as if it were the end of the world. Which it was, Renee thought. The end of the world they knew.
"O brave new world that has such people in it," she quoted, sighing. Such people like the prostitutes who were willing to risk everything for her crazy idea. Such people like Jonathan Ryan who stood to face death should the warehouse be discovered. Such people like those who had joined the Children of the Revolution because of a dream.
Then there was the nagging worry that no one would even show for the opening. Andrew had extracted promises from everyone to whom he had spoken, and all of Constance's prostitute friends had agreed, but Renee knew all too well the cowardice, or perhaps common sense, that governed prole life. If they thought the risk was not worth the action, they would not come.
The week flew by, although Renee would have given anything to stop it. Days blended into nights, meetings blurred and work seemed to disappear before her. All at once, the opening was upon her. She left work, knowing that it would start before she arrived. It was part of the plan, in order to protect her. If she arrived halfway through, no one would think she had orchestrated the whole scheme.
She arrived home and changed out of her work clothes. She walked to the Tube station and rode until she was two stops away from the warehouse. She walked the rest of the way. On her way, she met a prostitute leading a Party member in the same direction. They walked to the warehouse together, the Party man in tow and completely confused. Renee smiled at the prostitute as they parted ways inside the warehouse.
The warehouse was filled with music. The sound system they had so painstakingly created blasted the sound to every corner of the building. Renee knew from her entrance that the soundproofing held. Her heart made an ecstatic leap as she saw the inside of the building.
People. More people than she had ever imagined would be there. Party members who had obviously been dragged there by Constance's colleagues. Proles who had been told via word of mouth. Some were certainly members of the COR, as they liked to call themselves. Worried glances darted to and fro, but there were smiles. The prostitutes had pulled their customers onto the dance floor with a kind of adventurous excitement. Proles danced with Party members who had extracted themselves from their enthusiastic partners. Proles swung in one another's arms. Renee caught a glimpse of Constance and Andrew in the middle of the floor.
Thomas appeared by her side, smiling.
"I think we can count this as a success," he said wryly.
"How? What did we do to manage this?" Renee gasped.
"We worked our asses off since November. I think we deserve a little happiness now. But don't stop now. This next song's for you." Renee opened her mouth to ask, but Thomas cut her off. "Andrew made sure they didn't play it until you came in."
Sure enough, Andrew was next to the stage, talking to one of the young men holding the black market instruments.
"They're very good," Renee managed. Thomas just smiled as the song began. It was faster than the previous one, and much more intense.
"Well, you can bump and grind
If it's good for your mind.
You can twist and shout,
Let it all hang out,
But you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, no.
Well, you can tell I play
In a foreign way
I drive a Rolls Royce
'Cause it's good for my voice
But you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, you won't fool
The Children of the Revolution,
No, no."
Renee was speechless as the song ended. Thomas cocked his head.
"I asked him what a Rolls Royce is, and he said it was some kind of automobile his grandfather talked about. He said he used it because it rhymed."
"You knew about this?"
"Course I did. Andrew, Stance and I were plotting it ever since you said you wanted to open a dance club. You said you wanted some real talent for music, and we found you the best Dublin can offer. Between you and me, I think the singer's sweet on you."
"He doesn't even know who I am!"
"He knows enough to know that Pheonix is a very attractive woman." Renee rolled her eyes at that.
"Who would have imagined that so many people would come for this?"
"Eh, you have to have faith in people, Renee. Most people are willing to take a chance."
"That they thought this was worth the chance is -"
"Amazing?"
"Wonderful." Thomas smiled as she said it and swept her into a hug.
"Let's dance."
Author's Notes:
Ok, quiz for those who care: why is Pheonix an appropriate code name for Renee, and why is Artemis a joke for Constance? Answers come with the next chapter! Renee's quotation is from Act V of The Tempest. And yes, those are the real lyrics to Children of the Revolution. The chapter title is from Nineteen Eighty-Four.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
The Tempest is by William Shakespeare.
Thanks to all those who reviewed! Follow their example! :)